This is Sooo Beautiful!
From my friend Kathleen….This is a ‘must share’ for pictures
And is proof that ‘someone ‘did Not forget’….
Out gratitude goes to the artist…Ray "Bubba" Sorensen.
I received this and thought it was beautiful and had to share.
I'm told that there is a huge rock near a gravel pit on Hwy. 25
in rural Iowa.
For generations, kids have painted slogans, names,
and obscenities on this rock, changing it's character many times.
A few months back, the rock received it's latest paint job, and since
then it has been left completely undisturbed. It's quite an impressive sight.
Be sure to scroll down and check out the multiple photos (all angles) of
the rock. I thought the flag was draped over the rock, but it's not.
It's actually painted on the rock too…..
Jan 30, 2005
Jan 28, 2005
Below is an article in the MacDill AFB Newspaper called the MacDill Thunderbolt…Jan. 21, 2005 edition……It’s motto is
Mission First, People Always, America Forever…..
www.macdillthunderbolt.com
Chaplain recalls honoring fallen in Baghdad
By: Chaplain Maj. Shane Gaster….509th Bomb Wing
Whiteman Air Force Base, Mo.
... The telephone in the chapel tent at Camp Sather, the Air Force contingent at Baghdad Internal Airport, rang a little after 9 p.m. It was someone from the U.S. Army mortuary affairs team. When mortuary affairs called, it was generally to cover a fallen U.S. Soldier, Airman, Marine, Sailor, defense contractor or other member of the coalition force.
... I had been in the country less than a month and had already done 40 of these, but the event that night warranted deeper reflection. I wrote it in my journal because I was talking to myself about it, and sometimes I needed to talk to myself. We all did.
... At Baghdad International Airport, aircraft taxi, land and take off without lights; the airfield is deliberately kept dark. I responded that night, along with my chaplain assistant, Airman 1st Class Marco Avecilla, to the C-130 Hercules that had just taxied in. As it approached, we could see a dim light emanating from the cargo hold; it was just enough illumination to allow the loadmaster and crew to see their way around inside.
... Air Force honor guard members were assembling; they were Airmen assigned to Camp Sather, who generally worked 10 to 12 hours a day, six to seven days a week, but volunteered to do additional duty as members of the honor guard. They wore the desert cammies for these formations. Underneath the body armor, we were all suffocating from the heat.
... The air expeditionary group deputy commander was out at the aircraft along with the command chief master sergeant. They had already made the walk out from the Glass House, one of only two hardened buildings on Camp Sather. The Glass House once served as a building where Saddam Hussein’s distinguished visitors were greeted, but was now home to the command section. Also at the aircraft were the troops from the ramp section.
... Airman Avencilla and I, along with the others, gathered at the b back of the aircraft to wait. The rear door was raised, and ramps down and in place; we whispered quietly to each other, until, off in the distance we could see the silhouette of mortuary affairs’ five-ton truck approaching.
... The MA team clearly has one of the most stressful, but most sacred duties there as they receive the casualties and prepare them for the first leg of their journey home. The casualties’ families and our nation have every reason to be grateful and proud of the sacred work the MA team does in caring for our fallen comrades.
... Parked just off the nose of the C-130 was a blue Air Force bus.
The ramp supervisor said there were about 30 Marines sitting on it, just waiting to head out. The waited on the bus until all the cargo was loaded onto the aircraft, including the transfer case, the military term for coffin.
It was standard operating procedure.
... The supervisor then went to the Marines to explain what was happening and that as soon as the transfer case was loaded, they would be allowed to board the aircraft.
The Marines wanted to join the honor guard formation for the ceremony.
The supervisor came over and shared their desires.
We looked at one another and without hesitation nodded in unison.
In less than a minute, they assembled with us, helmets, armor and weapons included.
... As the five-ton truck with the case approached the rear of the C-130, we stood at parade rest, forming two lines straight off the ramp directly under the rear of the aircraft. The air crew, as always, stood in formation with us.
We were called to attention.
... The truck’s tailgate was lowered; then with care the MA team pulled the flag-laden transfer case from the back of the vehicle.
At the command “present arms,” the formation rendered a slow ceremonial salute.
... My chaplain assistant and I led the pall bearers up onto the ramps and into the cargo hold of the Hercules.
The only other sound piercing the darkness was the auxiliary power unit under the port wing running the C-130’s systems while it was parked. The detail broke ranks, assembled up the ramps and huddled around the transfer case.
... There we were, under the dim lights with the APU humming, looking at the flag, and thinking about the young Soldier beneath it, lying in rest at our feet. It was crowded, and I invited the troops to gather and close in.
... I gave some preliminary comments as to how this Soldier gave his life earlier that day. I suspected he had slept in a tent last night with his friends and comrades, ate breakfast with them that morning, and didn’t plan to end his day like this, but he was prepared to, as we all were. For some the risk was far greater.
... I said, “Hear the word of the Lord,” and Airman Avecilla read the
23rd Psalm. I then called for a moment of silence, as I always did, and offered a prayer for his family, the people of his hometown and for our nation.
... I prayed for the men and women of his unit who would notice in a striking fashion when his name is no longer called at the next muster.
I prayed for the aircrew that would fly this American home.
I closed by praying for the U.S. Army MA team members who did what few would want to do and even fewer would talk about, and they did it in a sterling manner.
I asked God to bless them.
... After the prayer, and a final salute, the detail was dismissed.
The entire ceremony lasted five minutes.
It is some of the most honorable five minutes I can think of.
I thanked the Marines for participating and they were all thankful for the honor, as all of us always were.
We went to the air crew and wished them a safe journey out of the desert to their next stop, and they were uniquely aware of the most precious cargo they
Were responsible for.
... We had the honor of taking a fallen service member and sending him home to family, friends, loved ones and neighbors. In my prayer, I asked God that when this troops finally arrived home to family and was laid to rest that his hometown and his country wouldn’t soon forget the price paid in the flow of making of history.
... The troop’s only memorial may become a framed picture carefully set on a piano, coffee table or some other shelf, and maybe 20, 30 or 40 years from now, children, grandchildren and other relatives might see an old photograph in a frame of someone in a uniform, and ask who it was.
Someone will then say, “Let me tell you about your uncle, your father or your grandfather,” or whoever it may have been.
There will always be those who remember.
Always.
... It struck me later that night of the uniqueness of that particular occasion.
I reflected on it at length.
That night we had assembled Air Force, Army, Marine Corps, National Guard and reserve members.
It was the total package.
We were all proud to have been a part of the moment.
Whether our uniforms say Air Force, Navy, Army or Marines,
…..they all say “U.S.” -and at the heart of what that means
……..is “us.” One team, one fight.
(Editor’s note: Chaplain Maj. Shane Gaster was deployed to Baghdad International Airport, Iraq, from late May to early September 2004. During the rotation, the chaplain staff - two chaplains and two chaplain assistants - conducted memorial services
For 106 casualties in 111 days.)
Jan 26, 2005
two ways to live
?a choice we all face
Below is an interesting perspective about
Christians helping in the tsunami relief in a Hindu region….
From: http://taiyongchiehworth.blogspot.com
About Me
Name: taiyongchieh.... Location:Singapore
View my complete profile
two ways to live....
.....a choice we all face
... my one cent worth...
Ask me if you have questions. Correct me if I am mistaken. We are all brothers and sisters in Christ. Let's help one another to grow.
Tuesday, January 25, 2005
Our Local Correspondent... (Australia)
From a Briefing….reader with close ties to some of the regions affected in the tsunami:
“With the horrific toll on human life and local economies that has unfolded before our eyes, Australian evangelicals will be wondering how they should react. Yes, we can contribute money—that goes without saying—but as Jesus said, “You will always have the poor with you”. We know therefore that money will not solve the problems of the millions of destitute survivors. What then, are some of the Biblical responses to this disaster, and others that will, no doubt, follow it during our lifetimes?
“As someone who works alongside members of an indigenous Indonesian church, let me give you some insights on how the local Christians respond. The Bali Protestant church is small, but fiercely true to the gospel. It is used to being a minority in a sea of local Hinduism and Indonesian Islam, but this has not stopped it from having an impact far beyond its numbers.
“When the bombs exploded in Kuta-Legian, the church was the first organization to offer help to the families of the deceased local families. The congregations of Bali took up a special offering for the widows and orphans. They also visited the families, appealed for sponsorship of school age children and took orphans into their care facilities. This had an enormous impact upon the Muslims who lost breadwinners and on the Muslim community of Bali as a whole. The commonly heard remark was “We thought you would hate us, but instead you have responded with love. Why?” As a result, there have been turnings to Christ.
“Yet, money and economic support was never their only method of reaching out. When I attended the Memorial Outreach a month after the disaster, I met an elderly Muslim from Lombok, whose only daughter had been badly injured. I asked him how he had been surviving with no breadwinner, and he pointed to a Christian family, saying simply, “They took me in.”
“This is typically the Balinese Christian response to disaster: they wade in as deeply as they can, and even further.
“And so they have done, in the wake of the tsunamis. As news came through on Sunday, the Balinese church dedicated its entire weekly offertory to the survivors. This week, they will hold a massive conference to organize help. I have no doubt that Christians from Bali will go to the devastated areas, offering help in whatever form it can be offered.
“I have no doubt, too, that Christians from the province of North Sumatera, where there is a Christian majority amongst the Batak tribe, will also travel to Aceh to bring relief and offer themselves as living sacrifices. And when I say sacrifices, I do not necessarily mean it in a spiritual sense. Aceh is the most fanatically Islamic region of Indonesia, and has waged an almost constant war for independence from first the Dutch and afterwards the Indonesian government, for almost 200 years. The Acehnese have banned Christianity, and burnt down the churches which were there.
“Yet, Christ is represented in Aceh. A Christian radio station broadcasts into the region, and Christian workers serve Christ secretly, under the sentence of death if they are discovered. It doesn’t stop them.
“The Indonesian Christians give us the example we should follow: not just money, but our lives should be offered for Christ. Don’t cancel your holidays to the region. Postpone them, perhaps, until the crisis is passed and life is beginning to normalize (if the word ‘normal’ can be used), then go there. Sit with the local people; build relationships with them; listen to them and give them your shoulder to cry on. Give to them financially and of yourselves, and tell them why you are giving. I can assure you they will listen, and they will accept your prayers if you offer them. I know: I was blessed to be able to share the gospel with Hindus in Bali, and I continue to be able to do so, as I return annually to the region.
“If you want to know more of what work my family has been privileged to be involved in, you can read more on our site: http://www.webpastor.com”
Jan 25, 2005
I must apologize for posting a ‘silly’ movie review but the ‘opinion’ of this blogwriter below..... makes sense to me…in other words….in the final analysis….despite the sacrifices, mistakes etc….It IS a Good Life!
BLOG:
ramblings of an alleged sane person
Thursday, January 13, 2005
Blogspot http://fullyloaded.blogspot.com/
13 Going on 30
I just finished watching 13 going on 30 and after watching the movie, I can’t help but smile. It’s a nice no frills-no-thrills kind of movie that takes a look at what people think are important in life.
Jennifer Gardner playing the 30 year old Jenna Rink is both child-like and breath-taking at the same time. It’s a story about this 13 year old girl that wanted to grow up so badly that she got what she wished for the next morning she woke up.
Fast forward 17 years and she’s this savvy and not to mention sexy ad agency executive who has it all -- or so she thinks... She works for a very popular magazine, goes out with the cutest hockey player, owns the most expensive clothes and the lifestyle that most people dream about... however, as the movie progresses, we see that her fantasy life is yet to be envied...
Although she has everything, she has no true friends, she is disliked by many and she is feared by her colleagues. She soon realizes that her dream life is turning into a nightmare. She finds solace with a childhood friend Matt, who has turned into this handsome next-door-guy type who is soon to be married to someone else.
What made me write and include this movie in my Flick Pick is that the movie made me think about the mistakes that I did when Iwas er, younger.?
I may not be 30 yet, but there are some things in my life that I would want to go back to. Things that I did and persons that I hurt that are forever lost to time. We all want our second chances, but we are not as lucky as Jenna Rink to be able to go back and re-write our own history.
I often find myself wishing that I was back to some points in my life that I wished I had done something different. But as I said, we can only be so lucky... So where does this leave us? Well... Someone once said, there’s no use crying over spilt milk, and I agree... What we can do is get a mop and clean the mess up...
Life is about making the wrong and right choices and living with the consequences of these choices. Someone sent me a text message which I think is appropriate for this log and it goes something like this:
“When we were little kids, we couldn’t wait to grow up and fall in love, now that were grown-up, we realize that wounded knees are easier to heal than broken hearts...”
It is true that when we were a little younger, we wished so fervently to grow up, to be who we think we wanted to be... It’s funny that it is only when we grow up that we realize that things were much simpler when we were kids. Growing up entails a lot of work and relationships as we grow tend to become complicated.
This is why I liked the movie. Although it is far from reality, the movie more or less captures the impatience of youth and the dilemma that adults face.
It made me realize that instead of wishing for a better today, I should cherish what I have now and hope that when the time comes that I encounter another fork on the road, the better choice, if not the best would be easy to follow….
Jan 24, 2005
Ralph Waldo Emerson
"To laugh often and much;
to win the respect of intelligent people
and the affection of children;
to earn the appreciation of honest critics
and endure the betrayal of false friends;
to appreciate beauty,
to find the best in others;
to leave the world a bit better;
whether by a healthy child,
a garden patch
or a redeemed social condition;
to know even one life
has breathed easier
because you lived.
This is to have succeeded."
Jan 20, 2005
Inauguration Celebration…..
Lovingly, the book of poems by Helen Steiner Rice speaks simple eloquence….Helen knew that it was necessary to stop and reflect…as she often did in order to write her poems of inspiration….
Although her pen was stilled in 1981,
her poetry still speaks compellingly of the love and joy of life,
whatever the time of year….
How timely is her poem…God Bless America….
I wish to present it to you this day of …..Inauguration…January 20, 2005
God Bless America
“America the beautiful" -
May it always stay that way
But to keep “Old Glory” flying
There’s a price that we must pay….
For everything worth having
Demands work and sacrifice,
And Freedom is a gift from God
That commands the highest price…
For all our wealth and progress
Are as worthless as can be
Without the Faith that made us great
And kept our country free…
Nor can our nation hope to live
Unto itself alone,
For the problems of our neighbors
Must today become our own…
And while it’s hard to understand
The complexities of war,
Each one of us must realize
That we are fighting for
The principles of freedom
And the decency of man…
And as a Christian Nation
We’re committed to God’s Plan…
And as the land of liberty
And a great God-fearing nation
We must protect our honor
And fulfill our obligation…
So in these times of crisis
Let us offer no resistance
In giving help to those who need
Our strength and our assistance-
And “the stars and stripes forever”
Will remain a symbol of
A rich and mighty nation
Built on Faith and Truth and Love…
.........................
Military Hall of Fame above...Family members who have helped keep America Free!!!
Jan 19, 2005
A Boat
from the author, David McNally.
"There are parts of a boat which,
taken by themselves,
would sink.
The engine would sink.
The propeller would sink.
But when the parts of a boat are built together, they float.
So with the events of my life.
Some have been tragic.
Some have been happy.
But when they are built together,
they form a craft that floats and is going some place.
And I am comforted."
Jan 18, 2005
Jan 17, 2005
Another’s Faith
Below is another blog writer who shares some of her views on her ‘faith’…Malaysia or the U.S.A……seems the same when speaking of contrasts that costs ‘something’…..in other words....The easy way….or the ‘road less traveled’….
See her eye for beauty….under the water and on land in photos above..
Pummkin’s site is at:
http://pummkin.blogspot.com
Pummkin's Pitch
About Me
Name: Pummkin Location: Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia
Occupation: Scuba Diving Instructor
Location: Kuala Lumpur : Malaysia
Marital Status: Single. Thinking about marriage? Why yes, everybody else's whose invitation I never fail to receive...
Profession: Making others happy. Nothing else seems to work. Try doing otherwise....Ok, so I teach scuba diving but I also do a whole host of other things which I like that feeds me & pays my bills, including writing, photography, design & concept work, mastering ceremonies, giving talks, team facilitation, motivational training & events. No, these things don't make me rich but why do I need to get rich when money falls from heaven...? My Father has many rooms in His mansion & one of them is for me.......
FUNNY
by: Pummkin.....
This piece was sent to me & I thought it was very profound in the way it addressed how we have lived our lives...
Funny how $50 "looks" so big when you take it to church, but so small when you take it to the market.
Funny how long it takes to serve God for an hour, but how quickly a team plays 60 minutes of basketball.
Funny how long a couple of hours spent at church are, but how short they are when watching a movie.
Funny how we can't think of anything to say when we pray, but don't have difficulty thinking of things to talk about to a friend.
Funny how we get thrilled when a baseball game goes into extra innings, but we complain when a sermon is longer than the regular time.
Funny how hard it is to read a chapter in the Bible, but how easy it is to read 100 pages of a best selling novel.
Funny how people want to get a front seat at any game or concert, but scramble to get a back seat at church services.
Funny how we need 2 or 3 weeks advance notice to fit a church event into our schedule, but can adjust our schedule for other events at the last moment.
Funny how hard it is for people to learn a simple gospel well enough to tell others, but how simple it is for the same people to understand and repeat gossip.
Funny how we believe what the newspaper says, but question what the Bible says.
Funny how everyone wants to go to heaven provided they do not have to believe, or to think, or to say, or do anything.
Words to Ponder…..
The writer below has something to say….The poem may be long but do not neglect the last two lines…..
Charles C. Finn
is a writer who also works as a licensed professional counselor primarily with substance abuse issues and issues of spirit. He has been married to Penny for 27 years and they live in Virginia. Charlie is the father of two children adopted from Korea and Hong Kong. He still does most of his writing on a yellow legal pad, but has recently learned how to use a word processor on the computer. He glories in thunderstorms, flowers and everyday miracles.
Charles's site is at....http://www.poetrybycharlescfinn.com/Index.html
Charles wrote a poem that has traveled around the world….
This is the Original Version….called…
"Please Hear What I Am Not Saying"
Please Hear What I'm Not Saying
Don't be fooled by me.
Don't be fooled by the face I wear
for I wear a mask, a thousand masks,
masks that I'm afraid to take off,
and none of them is me.
Pretending is an art that's second nature with me,
but don't be fooled,
for God's sake don't be fooled.
I give you the impression that I'm secure,
that all is sunny and unruffled with me, within as well
as without,
that confidence is my name and coolness my game,
that the water's calm and I'm in command
and that I need no one,
but don't believe me.
My surface may seem smooth but my surface is my mask,
ever-varying and ever-concealing.
Beneath lies no complacence.
Beneath lies confusion, and fear, and aloneness.
But I hide this. I don't want anybody to know it.
I panic at the thought of my weakness exposed.
That's why I frantically create a mask to hide behind,
a nonchalant sophisticated facade,
to help me pretend,
to shield me from the glance that knows.
But such a glance is precisely my salvation, my only hope,
and I know it.
That is, if it's followed by acceptance,
if it's followed by love.
It's the only thing that can liberate me from myself,
from my own self-built prison walls,
from the barriers I so painstakingly erect.
It's the only thing that will assure me
of what I can't assure myself,
that I'm really worth something.
But I don't tell you this. I don't dare to, I'm afraid to.
I'm afraid your glance will not be followed by acceptance,
will not be followed by love.
I'm afraid you'll think less of me,
that you'll laugh, and your laugh would kill me.
I'm afraid that deep-down I'm nothing
and that you will see this and reject me.
So I play my game, my desperate pretending game,
with a facade of assurance without
and a trembling child within.
So begins the glittering but empty parade of masks,
and my life becomes a front.
I tell you everything that's really nothing,
and nothing of what's everything,
of what's crying within me.
So when I'm going through my routine
do not be fooled by what I'm saying.
Please listen carefully and try to hear what I'm not saying,
what I'd like to be able to say,
what for survival I need to say,
but what I can't say.
I don't like hiding.
I don't like playing superficial phony games.
I want to stop playing them.
I want to be genuine and spontaneous and me
but you've got to help me.
You've got to hold out your hand
even when that's the last thing I seem to want.
Only you can wipe away from my eyes
the blank stare of the breathing dead.
Only you can call me into aliveness.
Each time you're kind, and gentle, and encouraging,
each time you try to understand because you really care,
my heart begins to grow wings--
very small wings,
very feeble wings,
but wings!
With your power to touch me into feeling
you can breathe life into me.
I want you to know that.
I want you to know how important you are to me,
how you can be a creator--an honest-to-God creator--
of the person that is me
if you choose to.
You alone can break down the wall behind which I tremble,
you alone can remove my mask,
you alone can release me from my shadow-world of panic,
from my lonely prison,
if you choose to.
Please choose to.
Do not pass me by.
It will not be easy for you.
A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls.
The nearer you approach to me
the blinder I may strike back.
It's irrational, but despite what the books say about man
often I am irrational.
I fight against the very thing I cry out for.
But I am told that love is stronger than strong walls
and in this lies my hope.
Please try to beat down those walls
with firm hands but with gentle hands
for a child is very sensitive.
Who am I, you may wonder?
I am someone you know very well.
For I am every man you meet
and I am every woman you meet…….
by: Charles C. Finn September 1966
